


The Bliss is Going to Make You See

by Lucky107



Series: The Seventh Born [7]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Canon Dialogue, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Gen, Leap of Faith, Mind Manipulation, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 21:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14602374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky107/pseuds/Lucky107
Summary: And shesaw.





	The Bliss is Going to Make You See

Roberta learned from Earl Whitehorse that everything began at Angel’s Peak.

It was fitting, really.

“Cameron Burke,” she had said, _demanded_ , the first time she met Faith Seed outside of the cabins there. Faith’s ethereal face only smiled graciously in return, like a naive child full of wonder. “I want to see him—show me that he’s still alive.”

Before she knew it their fingers had become entwined and Faith was running a delicate thumb across Roberta’s work-worn knuckles, whispering, “Come and see.”

And she _saw_.

 

The world is masked in a green fog.

Birds twitter loudly in the shadows of nearby trees, but no matter how far they walk together—like sweethearts, hand-in-hand—the darkness of the forest remains safely out of sight, leaving all of the monsters that it harbors to become little more than a distant memory.

The hills and valleys of Henbane River sprawl around her, bright and vibrant and free from the fears of the human mind.

Together they stroll only a short distance before Faith pulls Roberta down into the grass to sit. Roberta follows her without question, but never lets go of Faith’s small hand, determined not to lose sight of her objective. She won’t allow Faith to escape from her without first granting her wish to see the marshal.

 _Alive_.

But Roberta’s already lost sight of _herself_.

In the physical realm she sits alone in the Throne of Mercy Church and soaks in the Bliss.

“There once was a young woman… who had been ostracized by her community. Bullied by friends. Abused by her family,” Faith recounts and she screws her eyes shut as if in pain. “She took to a needle for help. She was all alone. She wanted to _die_.”

Roberta can hear Earl Whitehorse’s voice echo softly: _don’t believe a word Faith says._

But the way Faith squeezes Roberta’s fingers tightly in her own, like a child awoken in tears by a terrible nightmare, feels very real in that moment. Desperate, even, like a nightmare all its own.

Faith’s smile returns suddenly, as if controlled by a switch, and she whispers, “And then she met the Father.”

They’re running again.

Roberta chases Faith through an endless clearing, outrunning both the forest and the memory of its monsters with the playful curiosity of two small children on an adventure in a world all their own. By the time Faith allows herself to be caught, reconnecting at the hand, the statue of Joseph Seed has come into view through the mist.

It stands high on a hill, so far away from where they play that it might be a mere trick of the light.

That’s Angel’s Peak.

How long has Roberta’s subconscious been trapped within the Bliss? How far has her physical body been made to walk without rest, without _her_?

“He gave her _hope_ , and _confidence_ ,” Faith’s voice comes again, distracting Roberta’s mind as she run off into the flowers. She spins and spins with arms wide open, dancing beneath the gaze of the statue. “The Father showed her how _special_ she was, that she was full of love and life.”

Roberta stands like a statue all her own beneath the watchful eye of the Father. Every fiber of her being wants to chase after Faith in that moment, but her body will not obey.

Reason continues to ground her, even within the tightening clutches of the Bliss.

Faith eventually dances her way back to Roberta and, with a featherlight touch, she brushes her fingertips over Roberta’s freckled cheek. Warmth blossoms in the shadows of her fingertips, but before Roberta can bring a hand up to find Faith’s, the warmth vanishes.

“He gave her a new family,” she whispers softly, with _understanding_. “One that accepted her just as she was. The young woman no longer wished to die: she had been given _purpose_.”

And with one grand gesture of her arms, Faith explodes into a bright white light that temporarily blinds Roberta.

Born from the light is wings of green smoke and on them Faith appears much like Gabriel must have appeared to Daniel: it’s both wonderful and strange, all at once. Wordlessly, Faith extends her hands to Roberta.

Roberta takes them.

Together they rise high above the world—above fear, above apprehension, above heartache and pain. It’s so easy for Roberta to forget about everything except for Faith’s smiling face when she’s this far away from it all.

Down below, Roberta walks—staggers—for twenty-four straight hours through the wilds of Henbane River.

The Pilgrimage lasts for only minutes within the Bliss.

There is no indication here of the blisters that form on her feet or of the severe dehydration that shrivels her skin. Her physical self is _dying_ , but in the Bliss her subconscious is _flying_.

From way up here the world below appears minuscule and insignificant.

It’s _beautiful_.

“One day, the Father brought her _here_ ,” Faith explains in a hushed whisper. “He asked if she had _faith_ in him. He asked if she would be willing to _die_ for him. The young woman, who very much wished to live, was _scared_. The Father told her that this was her test: he would have faith in her, if she had faith in him. So, she closed her eyes—and leapt.”

Faith releases Roberta’s hands with a playful laugh and Roberta’s heart skips a beat.

The fall is short.

She lands between the stone pages of the Bible that sits in the hand of the Father’s great statue at Angel’s Peak. Beneath her feet is an inscription.

 _The Prophecy_ —

 _The Father kept his word_.

Faith’s voice carries an unfamiliar echo that frightens Roberta.

Terrified that she will be left here, all alone, she lifts her head only to find Cameron Burke standing before her. He’s looking out across the mystified Henbane River, but he looks _good_. _Happy_ , even.

Roberta manages a shaking step towards him before Faith’s voice fades to little more than a distant dream: _the path to Eden is clear to those who have faith_.

Cameron turns to her then, extending a hand in a once-familiar invitation, and _smiles_.

“Walk the path, Roberta.”

But before she can reach his hand, before she can even _try_ to reason with him, Cameron turns and allows himself to fall from the statue.

That moment reconnects fact to fiction and Roberta nearly chokes on her fear. Suddenly, everything is _real_. She rushes to peer over the edge in a panic, but vertigo strikes like lightning and, with a single step backwards, she falls, hard, onto the cement. Bile rises in her throat and her head is spinning like a top.

How much of what she’s seen has been real?

Did Cameron—?

The thought hits Roberta like a bullet and she heaves whatever remains after her pilgrimage.

Her arms and legs feel just like jelly, incapable of supporting her weight, and all she wants to do is lie down. She’s weak from the pilgrimage, but she has to find her bearings—there’s only one way forward, she knows.

She must wake up from this nightmare.

A light show of black and white flashes attack her vision as she finds her feet and threaten to knock her back down, but Roberta pushes on. She moves as if she’s underwater, making one, two, three sluggish steps towards the edge—towards _Cameron_ —and she takes the leap.

Plummeting through the thick green fog, the world, in equal parts good and bad, fades to black.

 

_Deputy?_

A distant voice was the first thing Roberta remembered with any clarity.

It was Earl Whitehorse, himself almost hoarse in his desperation of trying to reach her, but she didn’t reach for her radio. She couldn’t. She was hungry and thirsty and tired, but above all else, she was _sore_. She lied in perfect silence, bleary eyed and trying to make sense of the statue towering over her.

That she—that _anyone_ , for that matter—could have leaped from such a height and survived the fall was impossible.

Yet she was _alive_.

And, suddenly, very afraid.


End file.
